


Folklore

by mothdotjpeg



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Folklore by Taylor Swift, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot Collection, Some angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hannibal in prison, more tags when i post more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25515016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothdotjpeg/pseuds/mothdotjpeg
Summary: Hannibal one-shots based on the songs from Taylor Swift's new album Folklore.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	1. The 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal talks with Alana while in prison about Will + Memory Palace

_ This wasn’t how he thought it would’ve gone. They had bled together, many times before. Red, hot and fast. Skin smeared and dirty. It was beautiful. Those memories. The ones were they seemed to be one, created in the same image. Sure, the blood that had spilled between them was complex. The taste lingering on both of their tongues, but he enjoyed the taste. Delighted in it. Complex, yes. Painful memories of blood spilling across his kitchen floor. The feeling of those eyes on him, watching as he left. The same eyes watched him now, he didn’t show his thoughts. Didn’t let them be read. But he knew they were. That was always the problem with them. They couldn’t hide anything from each other.  _

_ He was standing in the doorway, looking as the other man sat up in bed. Disoriented. Will. His Will. Sitting in his old bed, in this old house. No more fishing baits, no more dogs. Just them. It felt nice. At least he thought so. He wanted it all so badly, more than he wanted to admit. But, of course, he didn’t have to. Will always knew. They had begun to blur. Isn’t that what he had said? Perfect words saved for his mind palace, for whenever he needed. But why would he need his mind palace now? When Will was sitting here, in his old house in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Looking at him like he was the only one. Will had forgiven him, hadn’t he? For the blood, they had both bled. That they had delighted it. Either caused by each other, with knives deep in each other’s bodies. Or for the blood of others, spattered on their faces. Beautiful. How could Will deny that now? From the moment he had shot Garret-Jacob Hobbs, with his hands around Abigail’s neck that first time. Not dissimilar to the second time. From that first time, he had seen Will shaking and bloody. He wanted to make him bleed. And grow. And change. And they were so close now. Weren’t they?  _

“What are you thinking about?” Alana sat across the glass, legs crossed, hands clenched in her lap. Eyes piercing Hannibal’s mind, trying to find what was inside. Oh, how desperate she was to see how his mind was wired. He smiled, in his own way. Soft and gentle, making Alana twitch in her seat. There they were. Glass between them, the empty air. Eyes taking in the prison cell, more like a circus cage, that he rarely observed. Lost in his mind palace, to hold what he once had close. 

“Teacups.” His gaze returning to the woman in front of him, watching his every movement. Like he would do something, anything, to clue her into his brain. He never did. A slight squint in her eyes, trying to understand what he meant. Instead of asking, she just let out a sigh and stood. “Do you know how he is?” She had turned to leave, but his voice made her stop. Hand on the back of her chair, supporting her weight. Still not fully healed, maybe she would never be. That made the smile flash through his face again, it made him proud. What Abigail would do if she was still here. Outside of his mind palace. Alana’s body stiffened, turning to look at him. 

“Why would I tell you?” Deadpan. Her face never anything aside from serious. There was some power in the way she looked at him. As if he wasn’t human. Her gaze held anger, but it felt like praise. He was more than man after all. Even here, in a cage. She was wrapped around his finger and that was satisfying. Even if everything else had been taken from him. 

“You ask me what I’m thinking, but I wonder if you really want to know.” Face to face, both standing, looking at each other like there was nothing else. She had a child, a wife, a home. Yet she was here, wanting nothing more than to break him. It was infuriating and in its own way funny. “You all crave to understand me, but would you accept what I give? If I explained how I felt when I looked Jack Crawford in the eyes and surrendered, would you think I was telling the truth?” His head was cocked to the side, studying Alana’s face for any sign of an answer, but not giving her time to reply. “I scare you.” That made Alana laugh, an empty and hollow laugh. She looked down at the floor as she did so, breaking Hannibal’s deep gaze. 

“Lots of things scare me.” When she met his gaze, she shivered. Softly, barely noticeably. A smile on his lips as he held up a hand to stop her from continuing. Curiosity deep in her eyes, showing her true emotions. Letting her guard down. How foolish.

“What is it that scares us most?” Gesturing to people that weren’t there. He had started to pace slightly, back and forth, eyes resting on Alana in an almost friendly way. Professional, as if they were simply colleagues discussing work. They were just psychiatrists, even if Alana viewed him as a caged animal. Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, watching Hannibal’s movements. What scared them most? Not him, of course. He was long past this type of fear. Another fear deep in his chest, it was lost in his memories. But this one was silly. “You crave to understand me. To carve my skull open until you can savor the insides,” Hunger deep in his stomach, but not for food. “And yet, you fear to empathize with me. To want to find a label for what I am because you refuse to realize that I could be completely and utterly sane.” That made Alana’s face flash with different emotions before settling on anger. She detested him. Dead-set on containing him like a monster to study. Maybe he was. Maybe they all were monsters. “Why would you tell me how Will Graham is?” It was a rhetorical question, leaving the air quiet with unsaid anger and disgust. Oh, how disgusting he really was. He stopped pacing to look at her, eyes resting on her softly. Almost caring. When she answered with silence, he sighed and looked around the cell. “Why is it so hard to believe I’m human?” A response of another dry, empty laugh. “I am, after all.” He found his way to the glass, meeting her gaze again. So close, yet she was impossible to touch. Still, he felt her hold her breath slightly. Untouchable, but so easy to control. “And I find myself so delicious, don’t you?” He let himself lick his lips, gaze hard and piercing. Digging into her skin, but she didn’t budge. The air begged to ask her if she wanted to end him and eat him whole. Who didn’t? He hummed as he leaned back, spacing himself from her. Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath in. Almost letting himself go back to his mind palace, but this was far more fun than that memory. He delighted in this. 

“What is your point, Hannibal?” His name on her lips hatred and anger not being hidden. Annoyance. She was so annoyed. That made him smile. What was his point? He looked away, to the white cell. The display case for him. In all his glory. 

“Last time I saw Will Graham, we talked about broken teacups.” So much white, begging to be forgotten in favor of memories from long ago. He closed his eyes, not daring to turn towards Alana. Give her the satisfaction of seeing his face as he spoke. 

_ “The teacup is broken.” Rough and tiredness deep in his voice, looking past Hannibal as if this was all too much. Maybe it was. “And it’s never going to gather itself back together again.” Oh, how pretty he looked. Like he did when they were a breath away, hands covered in blood. Will’s blood. It had been so warm, compared to the coldness in his kitchen that night.  _

_ “Not even in your mind?” The way his eyes lingered on the house around him as if he had been forced to be there. A feeling climbed up Hannibal’s chest, into the crevices of his muscle and bone. One he had pushed away the last time, maybe because he had been the one to walk away. This time felt different. Even without a response, they knew what was happening. How this would go. Yet he could do nothing but ask, hiding the tone in his voice that begged. Because he was good at controlling his emotions. That’s what made them different. But right now, he didn’t want to. He wanted to be close to Will again, in a selfish way. One he refused to feel. That he would deny if Will said what he was surely going to say. So he didn’t let there be a response. He could convince him, he could persuade. This is what he truly wanted. He was the one other person who understood him. He could learn not to fear it. “Your memory palace is building,” The look in Will’s eyes almost shattered him, none of the empathy was there. He was broken, which Hannibal feared was his influence. His fault. He hoped not. “It’s full of new things.” Why wasn’t Will looking at him? Where were the feelings they had shared in his kitchen? In the gallery? Why didn’t they feel like one? “It shares some rooms with my own.” Because it did. They both knew it did. That if they so chose they could exist in their mind palaces forever and be happy. That was what scared Will. But what Hannibal feared was that he would be left alone. That those rooms would be closed off forever. “I’ve discovered you there, victorious.” Oh, why couldn’t this beautiful caring boy just admit he had discovered Hannibal too? So much doubt filled the air, they felt exposed. A type of intimacy Hannibal never shared. He was naked and stripped of the layers of his human suit. He wanted Will to love it, to accept him in all his glory.  _

_ “When it comes to you and me, there can never be one decisive victory.” And oh, how it hurt to hear. As if he was being gutted, in his grasp, by his hands. More painful even, that there was no bloodshed.  _

“Broken teacups?” Alana asked, breaking him away from the memory again. Refusing to meet her gaze, hiding the emotions that his body fought to show. Broken teacups. He shook his head, clearing his body of any sign of sorrow. 

“You see, I thought he was the one.” Turning to meet her gaze, her eyes confused. “He disagreed.” Because he didn’t delight, he tolerated. “We were something,” Silence around him, lonely and aching in the air. “Don’t you think so?” His eyes asked for a response, Alana scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Defensive for someone she hadn’t seen in years. So was he though. Defensive of a strange man, who had so much power in his grasp. A power that he refused to cave too. How strong he was. 

“If you did, he would be here, wouldn’t he?” Behind the glass? He was smarter than that. Visiting him? How Hannibal wished he would, but he wasn’t surprised. “That would’ve been fun.” It’s easy to be strong when the one who makes you weak is caged and contained. 

“Let me guess.” Gaze strong and painful, being alone made him weak he had realized. “He’s married? Not FBI?” Alana didn’t flinch, Hannibal could still smell it. “Smart boy.” He was.

“Jealous?” She smiled at him smugly, enjoying the show he was giving her. Letting the pettiness in his voice show. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were in love with him.” 

“Who said you knew better?” Her eyes flashed with realization, smile staying on her lips. Stepping towards the glass, curiosity not being hidden. Hannibal’s body tensed, not looking away. Lips pursed, trying to hide any emotion that could cross his voice. 

“So Hannibal the Cannibal has a weakness?” He smelled the smugness, the way he let something slip into her mind. On purpose. Still smart as ever, everything was his plan. 

“I am human.” Hard to not empathize with someone just like you. She shook her head, still smiling. So close to cracking. 

“You’re just a heartbroken man now?” A heartbroken man who enjoyed the feeling of gutting people, yes. But still a man. He looked at her, waiting. That made her snicker. “Oh, you really want an answer? Like a moth without the sun.” She considered for a moment. “I want to hear you say it.” He let his mask down, responding softly. Letting himself seem human. 

“How is he?” And he honestly believed she would tell him. Until she laughed, shaking her head. Turning on her heel and leaving him in silence. A lack of dignity, admitting to being human. To crave someone so badly. So back to his memory palace. Where Will was his. Where Will was the one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if this has the same vibe as The 1 but here we are. hope you enjoyed <3


	2. Cardigan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal post-fall share a bed at a hotel.

There they were. Nestled in each other’s bodies, wrapped up in the warmth of each other. Will was sitting up in their shared bed, leaning against the headboard. They were in a hotel room, getting used to a world that didn’t sway. So many blurry long days of seasickness, adrenaline pushing them through the run. They were hidden now. After what felt like months of constant worry. Right now, it all seemed dim. Faint. Unimportant. The hotel room had two beds, but Will had grown used to being close to the other man, never wanting to be away in case anything happened. Falling asleep together with the rocking of the boat. And Chiyoh was with them, although she was currently absent. So they had settled into the mattress. Will sighed, trying not to think. He had stayed up too many nights thinking, he just wanted to feel. There was Hannibal, of course. Settled against Will’s chest. Resting all his weight onto Will without a thought, wrapped up in his arms. Will’s thumb stroking gently across Hannibal’s arm, back and forth. Slow like the waves that used to lap against the boat at night. Hannibal never seemed like one to cave to human touch, to give in to such emotions, but there he was in Will’s lap. His face was nestled into the crook of Will’s neck, soft breath on his collarbones reminding him that Hannibal was alive. Legs intertwined with Will’s as if they couldn’t be separated. Neither of them wanted to be. 

“How are you feeling?” Will said softly into the quiet air. Full of the warmth, the feelings, their blurring identities. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Hannibal, like if looked away then he’d be gone. Lost in the ocean, leaving Will alone. The thought made Will shutter, arms holding him ever-so-slightly tighter. Hannibal could tell his worry and snuggled his body closer, forehead against Will’s neck. Skin to skin. 

“No need to worry about me, Will.” Of course, there was reason to worry. A bullet wound, shaking body as if the cold water that had engulfed them had never left. Will rolled his eyes, tilting his head so his nose was pressed against Hannibal’s head. Lips to his temple. 

“I’m going to worry about you.” His hand drifted from Hannibal’s arm to his waist, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt without thinking. Desperate to get his mind off everything around them. Away from the world. To this moment. But even that was too complicated. He felt Hannibal smile into his neck, moving his head slightly up. Pressing a kiss to his neck, softly. Will’s fingers stopped, brain going blank at the contact. It was so soft, so un-Hannibal. Nothing like the closeness they had shared before, covered in blood. Before Will could do anything, he felt Hannibal’s hand slip under his shirt, pressing his palm to Will’s heart. It was warm and quiet, listening to the drumming of his heart. He couldn’t help but laugh, shaking their bodies. They were silent, cozying into the embrace, Hannibal’s face pressed to close to his skin. It was so calm, healing, nothing coming between them. Neither of them thought about what it meant, it didn’t need to mean anything. It was simple, natural. 

“Hannibal,” Will said, voice sounding drunk on the comfort. The intimacy. He was looking at the ceiling, just feeling the man’s weight against him. It felt nice to hear his name, no more Doctor Lecter. He was Hannibal now, nothing more. 

“Will?” He muttered into Will’s skin, lips brushing his neck and making Will shutter. They were so close, impossibly close. It was so pleasant and simple. Nothing they had ever felt together. Something they had both wanted, even if they hadn’t admitted it. 

“This is so…” So much? Too much? His voice trailed off as Hannibal moved his hand to softly stroke his chest, eyes caught up in how comfortable he looked there. Soft. Hannibal never seemed soft before. They’re eyes met, Will almost felt embarrassed to be caught staring. 

“I know.” His voice was so kind and understanding, pain lacing underneath it. Why did Will want nothing more than to comfort him? This man who had hurt him so badly. Seeing him in pain wasn’t cathartic, it just made Will hurt too. 

“Hannibal,” He said again, enjoying the taste of his name on his tongue. The look in Hannibal’s eyes was so earnest, so pure. Wanting nothing more than to listen to Will talk. To be held. Nothing like their old sessions, the need for manipulation gone. 

“Will?” He asked again, lifting his head slightly to look at Will better. So much twinkled behind his eyes. It was quiet for a long moment, just looking at each other. Recognizing all they had been through. How none of it seemed to matter. 

“Can I kiss you?” It was so innocent, in all the darkness. The blood they craved, the hands that could rip each other apart to consume. There were no walls around them, to their deep desires. The dark thoughts spiraled out of control and neither of them cared. Yet here he was, asking permission to kiss the man in front of him. Voice filled with worry of rejection. Hannibal smiled at him, unapologetically, admiring everything about Will. 

“Of course, my dear Will.” Their gaze didn’t break as he leaned down, a small distance. Until their foreheads were touching, noses nuzzled against each other, lips a second away from touching. They breathed each other in, Will let his eyes close. 

“Kiss the pain away,” His hand pressed against Will’s chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart. The way it moved as he laughed, pressing his lips against Hannibal’s. They laughed as they kissed as if they were teenagers without any baggage. It felt the first time either of them had kissed someone, nothing else mattered. Will’s hand had found Hannibal’s face, stroking his cheek as he broke the embrace. He didn't open his eyes for a moment, enjoying how this felt. Their bodies blurring together.  _ Before-you and after-you.  _ Oh, how he cherished after-him. When he opened his eyes he was greeted with a look in Hannibal’s eyes that had him melt. So much love clouded his gaze, admiring Will’s face. He felt Hannibal’s hand move from his heartbeat to the smile on his stomach. Fingers tracing its curve. That was his design. Hannibal’s mark on his body. Something that usually made his skin crawl, but now? Now he sighed into the touch, moving his hand to cover Hannibal's through the shirt. 

“You draw stars around my scars.” They were melting together. In no world did he think they could have this intimacy. This softness, simple admiration for each other. A gross amount of romance, neither of them noticed. Too wound around each other to care. “Make me bleed, whenever you want. I don’t mind anymore. Not if it’s for you.” He wanted nothing more than to be Hannibal’s, life was simpler that way. If they were one. Hannibal drew Will’s face closer to his and kissed him again, and again. Until Will’s head was spinning from exhaustion and pain and the bliss of Hannibal’s lips. When he could finally breathe he closed his eyes, feeling the kisses drift from his lips to the scar on his cheek. Even if it was inflicted by Dolarhyde, it was a reminder of Hannibal. Of his becoming. Of what they could be when they both healed. 

“It’s beautiful.” Hannibal murmured as he rested his head back in the crook of Will’s neck. Because it was. It was beautiful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only link to the songs are some references to lyrics lmao. This one is lots of fluff because I'm lonely, I hope you enjoyed lol


	3. The Last Great American Dynasty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal discuss their aliases in their Cuban home. (tw: blood and slight gore)

It smelled like white wine and garlic, onions roasting on the stove. Muggy with heat, which Will wasn’t handling as well as he claimed he was. Sometimes he would disappear for hours, only for Hannibal to find him in the water. Most nights Will avoided the kitchen until Hannibal dragged him in for dinner, how Hannibal could handle the heat of the oven was a mystery to Will. But this evening, Will was hovering around the kitchen island, watching Hannibal as he cooked. He liked having Will close, an arms-length away. The silence, however, was getting boring. They did talk, but not enough Hannibal thought. There was never enough of Will. But he never mentioned it, staying quiet. If that’s what Will wanted, he’d give it to him. 

He has put the roast in the oven, setting a timer, and he was now wiping off the counter. Feeling Will’s eyes on him as he took off his apron, folding it. While Hannibal had been focused on dinner, the meditation of the silence, and the smell of meat, he had noticed that Will was focused on him the whole time. He finally met his gaze when Will spoke.

“Who lived here before us?” The question caught Hannibal somewhat off-guard, his eyes studying Will’s curious face. Not that he minded a question, he was grateful for it. The past few months had been a silent trust. Ever since they recovered, Will followed along. Never asking where they were going, who’s names they were taking, how Hannibal had obtained such a beautiful house near the sea. And while at first, it had made Hannibal happy to be trusted, eventually it grew boring. Will had to be curious, he knew that he wanted answers. But he never pushed Will to ask, just waiting for when he would give up the silent tension. Tonight was that night, it seemed. 

“Marlow Balchunas,” Hannibal spoke his new name casually, eyes still studying Will’s beautiful clean-shaven face. Sadness crossed his mind as he realized how little he got to see that face anymore, how after all they had been through they were avoiding each other. He wondered why, but he continued. “And his wife Rebecca Reed.” A look crossed Will’s eyes that Hannibal couldn’t read. He crossed the room to where Will was standing, leaning slightly against the island. “She didn’t take his last name, the people around here always wondered why.” There was a layer of humor in his voice as he nodded his head towards the living room, letting Will trail after him to a spot on the couch. 

“Just them?” They sat on opposite ends of the couch, rarely touching anymore. Not since they’re wounds had healed. The house was large, with many empty bedrooms. The curiosity in Will’s voice was understandable. Hannibal shrugged his shoulders. 

“They had many servants,” Hannibal explained, still watching Will’s face closely. If it was making Will uncomfortable, he didn’t show it. Watching Hannibal with the same intent. “Nurses, butlers, cooks, anything of the sort.” His voice was leading something on, waiting for Will to notice and ask another question. But silence lingered in the air after he finished, leaving something to be desired. Will hummed and looked away from Hannibal, at the room around them. The nice couches, coffee tables, artwork decorating the walls. It was a beautiful house, making Will look somewhat out of place. It reminded him of Hannibal’s old house in Baltimore. 

“What did they do?” His gaze returning to Hannibal, the curiosity in his eyes that made him even more stunning. If that was possible, Hannibal thought. Marlow Balchunas and Rebecca Reed. Such an interesting couple here on a small island near Cuba, alone in a big house. One that was theirs now. 

“Marlow was much like me, in some ways.” That made something flash in Will’s eyes, which made Hannibal chuckle slightly. “He was a retired surgeon, moved here with his wife to take up psychiatry after a malpractice lawsuit. He was in his 50s, had no children. Around 6’ 3”, had the body of a swimmer. He spoke English, Spanish, French, and Portegesh fluently. He was born in Iowa, moved to Europe for school as a young adult. From what I’ve heard, he was a gentleman.” Will nodded his head, eyes lingering on Hannibal’s face but not meeting his gaze. So shy and timid after all this time, Hannibal wondered what had happened between the cliff-side and now. “And Rebecca,” Something twinkled in his eyes that made Will’s mind race. “She was…” Hannibal enjoyed the way Will shifted closer, eyes flaming with curiosity. How badly he wanted Hannibal to explain. “Many people said she was the craziest woman they had ever seen. Rich and powerful and so very lonely.” His voice sounded lost in distant memories, eyes glazed over. Silence lingering around them as Will observed Hannibal. After a moment, he blinked and returned the look. “Does that answer your questions?” Will shifted in his seat, looking away quickly. He gulped, feeling Hannibal’s eyes on him. 

“Who was I?” There was the question he had been waiting for, making him smile softly at Will. Part of him almost wanted to lie about the man Will had taken place of, worried maybe that it would make him uncomfortable. But he had promised to be honest, always. 

“Benjamin Flores,” He said it with the tone he did whenever they were in public, similar to the way he always said Will’s real name. It made Will shift in his seat, although he didn’t know why. “He worked for Marlow as his intern, although if you asked Marlow he always said that Benjamin was his student. They met when Benjamin was fresh out of college, so Marlow offered to let him live and work for Rebecca and him.” He watched the expressions on Will’s face as he spoke. “5’ 11”, brown curly hair, he often forgot to shave.” That made Will’s lips turn up in a slight smile, running his hand over his smooth chin. “They lived and worked together for many years before Rebecca started to suspect anything.” The smile fell from Will’s face and he met Hannibal’s eyes with a surprisingly direct stare. 

“Suspect what?” There was surprise in his tone, his eyebrows furrow as he watched Hannibal’s face, waiting for a response. Hannibal held back another chuckled and gulped before he continued. 

“Marlow and Rebecca remained married for the last two years of their lives, but although they lived together they lived separated.” He said it simply, casually as if he hadn’t kept it a secret for many months. Would Will be upset at him for keeping this a secret? He had never asked before so Hannibal didn’t feel like it was his fault. Before Will could respond Hannibal added, “Rebecca went from a simple well-off wife who arranged parties and dinners, to a madwoman. She wasted their money, destroyed any evidence of their time together aside from their marriage license. Everyone wanted her spiral into madness.” Will is silent, his gaze still strong on Hannibal. “It would have been fun to witness, don’t you think?” He added after a moment, and he meant it. That made Will laugh for a second before returning to serious silence. 

“Benjamin and Marlow were lovers?” He asked quietly into the air, eyes almost looking away from Hannibal but remaining. Not daring to break their eye contact. A smile was on Hannibal’s lips, he licked them slightly before responding, loving the look on Will’s face. 

“An affair with the pool boy is what Rebecca called it.” Something lingered behind Will’s eyes, more questions he was considering asking. Why had Hannibal given them these personas? These men. But Hannibal assumed he already knew.

“What happened to them?” That made Hannibal’s eyes cloud over again, lost in the memories. Will moved slightly closer, wanting to listen to whatever Hannibal had to say. 

“Ten years ago, I was here on a last-minute vacation. It was late in the evening, I was walking through here. This house was just as stunning then, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. No, it was the smell. Deep and rich. Fresh blood. So I did what I do best,” He closed his eyes, getting lost in the memory palace. Will watched, feeling what he was feeling. It was so close and intimate. Blood, they both smelled blood. 

_ Crisp evening air hugged tight to his body as he walked up the driveway, admiring the cars parked outside. It was late, the moonlight showing him the way to the door. A large, looming entrance to such an expensive house. Quickly, he tried the door and the door swung open silently. Dark hardwood floors, tall ceilings. It was almost pitch black, surprisingly cold for the normal heat. Without making a noise, he found his way from the entryway to deeper in the house. Past the beautiful staircase and living room until he found himself standing in front of the kitchen, a woman at the sink. There was a body, of course, laying in front of the oven. Blood covered the dark hardwood. Her hair was blonde, but in the darkness, it looked black with blood. She stilled the movements of washing her hands, letting the water run quietly.  _

_ “It’s not what it looks like.” Not daring to look at whoever was standing in her kitchen. Hannibal looked from the woman to the body, the blood. He stepped around the mess, not wanting to ruin his shoes or clothes, and stood next to her. She was shaking at the closeness.  _

_ “And what does it look like?” He took the soap from between her hands and started to scrubs her palms and arms, between her fingers, she looked at him confused. Once her hands were clean of blood, he turned the water off and met her gaze. “Is there anyone else?” Confused still crowded her eyes as Hannibal brought a hand to stroke her cheek gently.  _

_ “The boy will take care of himself,” She didn’t know what was happening. Was this god coming to take her away? Was this the devil smiling at her proud? “I won’t give them the satisfaction of dying together.” He nodded, leading her away from the sink and into the living room. Away from the blood.  _

_ “And what about yourself?” Scanning the room, and then the kitchen for the weapon she had used. There was a knife on the kitchen island, he retrieved it as he waited for her response.  _

_ “I don’t know.” She said after a minute, watching all of his movements very carefully. Still worried about who he was, why he was here. If he could help her. “I can live with myself if that’s what you mean.” The shaking of her body was gone as Hannibal returned to her, knife in hand. Not dissimilar to the knives he used to cook and prepare his food. It felt nice in his hand.  _

_ “I’m sure you can,” He stepped into her personal space, making her shudder slightly before relaxing. “But how will that look to the police?” There was kindness in his voice, care. Like her wellbeing really mattered to him, although he was a stranger.  _

_ “Fuck,” She breathed in, looking at the knife in his hand. “What do I do?” Why she was asking him was beyond her. But he seemed to know, seemed like he wanted to help. A hand found her hip, the hand with the knife coming closer. The tip against her stomach.  _

_ “Do as I say, and this will be okay.” And she knew he would be right. So she closed her eyes and nodded, even as the knife pierced her skin. Maybe this was the most affection she had been shown in years, maybe that’s why she didn’t resist or flinch.  _

_ “Thank you,” She whispered as her legs gave out, as Hannibal lowered her to the ground. Holding her gently as she bled out. Stroking her bloody hair, watching the life drain from her eyes. It was beautiful.  _

“And then I bought the house. After the police investigation was over, of course.” His eyes had opened again, watching Will as he finished. His eyes were full of questions that Hannibal wanted to answer. “It was a murder-suicide, Benjamin killed himself upon finding their bodies.” Will nodded solemnly. “Their families paid a lot of money so it wasn’t reported. Ashamed of the whole situation, so no one ever learned what happened to them. That’s why we can pretend to simply be them, it’s all lost somewhere in old police files.” That comforted Will, his body relaxing into the couch. But Hannibal could tell he had one last question, one Hannibal would wait to be asked. 

“Do you want us to be like them?” A soft look in his gaze, waiting for a response. It was silent. “Marlow and Benjamin, I mean.” He clarified, watching Hannibal carefully. Cautious. Hannibal smiled softly, looking at Will delicately. 

“Not dead, if that’s what you mean.” Will sighed, sitting up and shifting his weight closer to Hannibal. Hannibal knew that what wasn’t he meant, but he liked to watch Will struggled. Wanted to hear him say it. 

“No, not dead. I mean,” He was struggling slightly, after so long without really talking to each other, this was a lot of words. “You know?” Waiting for Hannibal to save him from his sputtering, only being greeted with that smile. He groaned and looked away. 

“Do you want us to be like Marlow and Benjamin?” Reaching out a hand to rest on Will’s thigh, breaking their months of separation. Will shivered but didn’t pull away. He shrugged, not looking at Hannibal. 

“I don’t know,” He said quietly, daring to look back to Hannibal, who was sitting closer to him now. Confusion in his gaze. Hannibal could tell he had been thinking about this for a while, even without the identities of their fake personas. He smiled and nodded. 

“I will wait until you do.” That made Will’s face fluster slightly, which made Hannibal’s heart warm. How domestic they could be when they actually talked and interacted. He wanted to beg Will to stay at home more, but enough had been tonight. They would take baby-steps, and he would wait. Their normal silence slipped back in before the timer went off and Hannibal snapped out of the trance he was it. They had both forgotten about dinner. As he stood, he helped Will up, hand in hand. 

“Do you miss it?” Will asked as he followed Hannibal into the kitchen, finding his place against the kitchen island again. It felt so casual, disregarding the months without talking. Hannibal knew what he meant, as he turned the oven off and tested the meat. 

“I miss a lot of things, but none of them matter now that I’m here with you.” It was true. They hadn’t discussed killing yet, and they were both unsure when they would. But Hannibal wanted Will to know he was always here, that he would give anything up if it meant having Will. Will nodded in response, caught off-guard at the softness in Hannibal’s voice. He wondered how long it would take for Will to get used to it. Because it wasn’t going anywhere. Hannibal noticed the way Will was looking at the kitchen island, and the floor, now knowing what events had transpired there. “Are you uncomfortable that I killed someone here?” Will met Hannibal’s gaze and smiled. Such an honest smile that Hannibal almost allowed himself to feel flustered by it. 

“I’m honestly not surprised,” He admitted and Hannibal couldn’t help but smile back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most song-related one yet, and I really liked writing it. Hope you enjoyed!


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